


That Kind of Movie After All

by Renai_chan



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Insecure Harry, Jealousy, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy entertains a suitor in the form of Nathaniel Beaumont, an American billionaire. Harry is suitably jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Kind of Movie After All

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm trying to clear out my drafts folder and decided to do this one next (sorry to all those waiting for updates for my chaptered fics!).
> 
> Based on this [Dressing Room 3 Prompt](http://dressing-room3.livejournal.com/405.html?thread=27285#t27285):
> 
> _Harry/Eggsy, fix-it with jealous!harry_
> 
> _Yada, yada, you know the drill. Harry is alive, becomes Arthur. Eggsy has to seduce a billionaire playboy to get into some secret members-only society or sth- and what do you know, he is actually quite attractive. Bottom line, this playboy becomes quite dedicated to Eggsy, and apparently it continues after the mission. He sends Eggsy fancy gifts and flowers. (Idk, to the shop i guess?) It is all very romantic- with ridiculous serenades and all- Eggsy laughs it off, but Harry is most definitely not amused._
> 
> _Cue jealous Harry, clueless Eggsy, and manipulative Merlin and oh-god-i-dont-have-time-for-this-men Roxy._
> 
> _Bonus points if Harry is not so secretly a Rom-Com fan and utilizes this particular expertise to woo Eggsy back._   
>  _Also bonus if Harry is very conscious of the age difference. The playboy would be around Eggsy's age._

Despite the fact that the Kingsman headquarters spanned well over two thousand acres in its entirety, including a forest, small lake, and a small cluster of residences aimed to look like the private homes of the mansion's 'staff' but were actually nothing more than storage sheds, its perimeter was quite effectively secured against any and all outside threats. At the very least, trespassers, whether on foot or vehicle or horse or what have you, would be detected and identified within seconds of having crossed the border.

So when an unfamiliar [Falcon F7](http://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--m1i47Kf6--/wlbmnoutevektzar6rus.jpg) squealed itself across the pebbled driveway without having set off alarms, showering a handful of stones up into the window of Arthur's office, Harry only calmly looked up from the budget he was signing into approval and tapped his glasses to ask Merlin why they'd purchased it without his say so.

"Not ours, Arthur," Merlin answered.

"Then who--" Harry started to ask before the door flipped up, and Eggsy climbed out.

A broad grin covered his face as he gestured expansively to the vehicle as if to say, 'Wot d’you fink? Gorgeous, ain't she?' And it was, really--that, Harry couldn't deny, American-made notwithstanding--but the bigger, more important and more immediate question was: why was Eggsy driving around a hundred-thousand pound car that Kingsman didn't own?

The knight in question hopped through the window, not even bothering to circle round to the front of the building and enter the office like a normal human being.

"Found 'er in fron' ov me 'ouse, pre'y little bow an' all an' a UPS guys tellin' me she's all fer me," Eggsy said proudly. Harry tried not to demonstrate concern because Eggsy wasn't an idiot--he'd been sure to thoroughly check the car out. Probably had Merlin check it the moment he'd set eyes on it.

Instead, Harry focused on doing his level best to keep his irritation out of his voice. "Still?" he asked, and Eggsy grinned broadly.

"Yep. Spoke wiv ‘im right after Merlin confirmed it," was his answer, and Harry wasn't quite sure he appreciated the delighted tone of his voice.

"Eggsy," he reprimanded instead. Eggsy turned to him, eyes wide and innocent. "I understand that it's flattering to be receiving such lavish professions of courtship," Harry continued. The younger agent looked like he wanted to laugh instead of affecting indignation at the rebuke, oddly enough. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, Harry continued. "But maintaining a relationship with Mr. Beaumont wasn't part of the brief."

"Pssh. I know _tha’_ , Harry," Eggsy answered, waving Harry's concern away. "This thing between us is all personal." Then he slanted a questioning look at Harry. "Or are we not allowed t’ be makin’ relationships in our personal lives now?"

Harry's mouth open and shut several times, embarrassingly like a gaping fish. Of course having personal relationships wasn't disallowed. Just Eggsy having relationships with anyone else at all should be! Much less with dashing billionaire Americans who didn't think twice about sending Eggsy Patek Philippe watches, and bespoke Caraceni suits, and top-of-the-line supercars that made the young agent practically swoon.

"Of course not," Harry finally answered, and Eggsy grinned like the universe had answered his every prayer.

"Good because I'm picking him up t’day at the airport."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Airport, Harry," Eggsy clarified. His apparent amusement was _not at all_ justified. "In about three hours. He'll be staying wiv me an' me mum an' Daisy."

"At your house?" Harry choked out with disbelief, and oh God, he didn't mean for it to come out the way it sounded: like Eggsy still lived in Dean's substandard flat down at the estates. But Nathaniel Beaumont was staying at _Eggsy's house_. In his guest bedroom (maybe his real bedroom, but Harry didn't quite want to think about that). And Eggsy was going to introduce him--him: dashing billionaire Nathaniel--as a suitor to his mother. Who is going to _love_ him.

(Not like she would Harry when Eggsy ever got around to reintroducing them).

Eggsy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Something wrong with my house, Harry?" His accent was suddenly finely polished like it was only when he was on a mission or he was angry and trying not to show it.

"Eggsy..." he started to say, but Eggsy what? Eggsy, don't go to him. Eggsy, don't take him home. Eggsy, take me home instead.

 _Tell him! Tell him now, Harry!_ urged a voice in his head, and he answered with, _Then what? Then what?!_ until he realized it was Merlin's voice speaking to him, and he discreetly tapped his glasses off.

Eggsy tilted his head, waiting still for Harry's answer.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. But that's quite a big commitment, introducing him to your mother when you've only just started..." He trailed off. _Dating_.

Eggsy, appeased, brightened up again. "Oh, don' worry about that. I'm not marryin’ ‘im yet. Mum knows that."

Harry's thoughts screeched to a stop with only one word running through it. _Yet. Yet. Yet._

"Do you wanna catch some dinner wiv us later? I wanna introduce ‘im t’ you," Eggsy continued, oblivious of Harry's inner turmoil. Harry blinked at him.

"I..." he tried, quickly sorting through his thoughts and wrangling them into some semblance of order.

"Come on, Harry," Eggsy wheedled. "I want you t’ meet ‘im. Tell me wot you fink. I... Your approval means a lot to me."

 _I don't!_ Harry wanted to say. To scream.

"Yes, okay. Of course, Eggsy, I'd be delighted to," Harry said instead. Eggsy positively _beamed_.

"Great! I'll go see Roxy. See you later, yeah?" Harry nodded dumbly. "I'll text you where!" And he watched the boy bound out the room like an excitable puppy just as Caradoc walked in, eyeing him in interest.

"He seems exceptionally delighted," the other agent noted. Harry sighed and waved his hand at the window, drawing Caradoc's attention to the car. He gave a low, appreciative whistle.

"Nice. Sign it up for me at the next mission," he said.

"It's Eggsy's," Harry explained, strolling round to his desk to pour himself and Caradoc some scotch. He saw the other man's eyebrows lift in slow surprise.

" _Eggsy's_?" he asked, disbelief in his emphasis.

Harry pursed his lips. "A gift from a former mark turned suitor," he explained. 

There was a small moment of silence and then a booming laugh from the other agent.

"I knew that boy was too good at his honeypots for his own good," he said through chuckles.

And oh god, yes. Harry felt his face heat at the thought of Eggsy on his honeypots--all dripping seduction and rakish charm--and fuck. It was easy to see why he'd make a suitor of any mark he wasn't slated to kill.

When Caradoc's eyebrow lifted in the extended silence, Harry handed him a scotch.

"You disapprove?" the agent asked. There was thoughtfulness in his voice, like he was assessing the situation, and Harry schooled his own tone lest he be subjected to another meddling colleague. He already had Merlin for that, thank you.

"He's entitled to his suitors. I just don't know if a former mark would be a good idea," was his diplomatic answer.

Caradoc still looked mildly interested, so Harry followed up his statement with a, "I presume you're here to hand in your report?" _And not to meddle in my personal life_ was the unspoken addition. Caradoc only grinned and handed over the folder he'd been toting around.

"Quite," was the unfoundedly amused answer before he tossed back his drink. "Good day, Arthur."

Harry murmured his own platitudes and decidedly buried his nose in Caradoc's file.

................

Harry dithered at the doorstep of Eggsy's family's home with a bottle of wine in one hand and the keys to his car in the other, wondering if he should just cut his losses and leave. 

It had been a marvelously bad idea to even considering accepting at all when Eggsy had told him the dinner he'd promised would have to be a stay-in one after Michelle had put up a great stink about how Nathaniel's first dinner should be at home, prepared with the love and care of a mother, not at some stuffy, stuck-up restaurant (never mind that Nathaniel probably ate in stuffy, stuck-up restaurants every day of his life).

Nevertheless, if Eggsy wasn't going to tell his mum no, no one was.

So here Harry was, standing on the doorstep, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and mentally competing with a man half his age for the affections of another man half his age, and he was hopelessly, _hopelessly_ outmatched in every way.

 _There's that decided then_ , he thought and stepped back to turn on his heel.

Only. 

"Harry?" he heard before he managed to do so, and his casual about-face turned sudden.

"Lance--" he started before catching himself and amending it to a calmer, "Roxanne."

Roxy grinned up at him with a small, knowing smile, and Harry quickly schooled his expression into calm collect. Her smile didn't waver, but her gaze did fall to the bottle in his hand. The resulting laugh was short, but genuine, and she lifted up her own bottle of wine. "We're going to be having a smashing good time, aren't we?" she asked. It was rhetorical, though, so Harry didn't answer.

He had an excellent working relationship with Lancelot. One of the best really, as she was one of the best agents he'd ever had the pleasure of working with and, unlike the very few better ones (*cough* Eggsy *cough*), actually _did as she was told_.

Outside of that, though, they weren't yet what you would call friends on a personal level. They've had dinners and drinks together by virtue of their mutual friendship with Eggsy, but little more.

Nevertheless, Harry was suddenly and desperately glad to see her standing there.

"A very pleasant surprise to see you here," he quickly tacked on before the pause could become something awkward and silently hoped the immense relief he felt didn't show in his voice. “I didn’t know Eggsy had invited you.” He held out an elbow to her which she graciously accepted.

"Well, we both know Eggsy can be a bit of an idiot at times," Roxy answered. She sounded a combination of fond, exasperated, amused, and knowing, and Harry had to wonder what that meant.

He chuckled. "Quite," was his just-vague-enough answer before his gut clenched with anticipation when Roxy rung the doorbell. She shot him a half-reassuring and half-amused look and patted his arm consolingly.

"I actually told him, this time, that he was being a complete idiot. But God help us all when he actually decides to listen to me," she said cryptically. But before Harry could ask what she meant, the door swung open to reveal Eggsy. And dear lord, but this was becoming an even worse idea by the second because Eggsy was looking absolutely _edible_.

His outfit wasn't quite Kingsman and wasn't quite chav but exactly in between. Perfectly fitting slim-cut jeans, a tight white shirt, a navy waistcoat and patent black Oxfords. No hat, thank God, but then his just-fucked hair style made Harry see green in wondering if it was an affectation or if Nathaniel had anything to do with it.

He greeted them both with a warm, pleased smile. Then his eyes fell to their linked arms, and his smile dimmed minutely, visible only because Harry was mentally cataloguing every aspect of it.

"Hi, Eggs," Roxy greeted, pressing a kiss to his cheek and tugging Harry through the door when Eggsy stepped aside to let them in. She left him halfway through, though, just as he found Eggsy right in front of him. As a barrier of sorts, he hefted up the wine and handed it over. 

"I, uh, brought something,"

Eggsy blinked at it for a moment before he took it. "Thanks, bruv," he answered and gestured Harry towards the living room to find Nathaniel sitting with Daisy in his lap. 

He was bouncing her on his knee gently with all the body language of someone who didn't know to handle kids--and maybe didn't ever plan to--but was trying his best, so Harry couldn’t find much fault with that. But it didn’t really matter, anyway, because Harry felt quite miffed that he got to hold Daisy at all.

Daisy, nonetheless, seemed to be enjoying the ride, but when she caught sight of Harry she positively _beamed_ and squealed, "'Arry! 'Arry!" Her pudgy little toddler arms flew out and made grabby hands at him, squirming on her perch to be picked up.

Harry, the world around the two of them quickly melting away, smiled and swept her into his arms with nary a word of permission. She giggled bright and happy while she swung through the air and onto his chest. "Hello, princess," Harry greeted, his evening that much brighter at the sight of her delighted eyes and sunny smile. "How ever have you been? It's been far too long since I've last seen you." She wriggled incessantly in his arms. "Has Eggsy's been keeping you from me?"

Daisy squeezed his face between her hands before reaching up to snag his glasses and wave them in the air.

"I brought her to the shop just last week, you wanker," Eggsy pointed out. Harry didn't have to look to him to see his shoulders shaking with laughter. Harry ignored him in favor of the darling little girl in his arms.

"'Arry! 'Arry!" Daisy chanted once more while she shoved the glasses onto her own face and nearly stuck herself in the eye, so Harry carefully tugged the glasses away and tucked them in his pocket while replacing them with a kiss to her temple.

"Careful, sweet thing. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, now would we?" he admonished softly before finally looking up to acknowledge the group watching him with various degrees of confusion and amusement. Only then did reality come crashing back down, and he found himself having to deal with Michelle's utter astonishment and Nathaniel's bemusement. "Ah, apologies," he said quickly. He regretfully put Daisy down and, without her buffering presence, awkwardly held out his hand to Michelle. "I’m Harry Hart. I work with Eggsy."

Michelle flickered a glance to Eggsy and, on returning her gaze to Harry, narrowed her eyes at him.

Testily, she said, “I remember you.”

Harry’s proffered hand hung in the air, unacknowledged, for about ten seconds before he dropped it with an embarrassed, “I, well… That’s… good, I suppose. Thank you for having me.” Her expression clearly showed that it had been Eggsy’s idea and that she’d been vehemently against it. He risked a glance towards Eggsy, _begging_ him to do something, and thankfully, the younger man quickly hopped into action.

“This is Nathaniel Beaumont,” he told Harry, gesturing towards his suitor as if Harry didn’t know who he was down to the very last skeleton he hid in his closet (oh, Harry had done his research on him--not that he planned on using it in any way (he was a much saner man than that), but to have that knowledge was a source of comfort to a spy of over three decades). Nathaniel held out a cordial hand to shake. “Nathaniel, Harry Hart, my boss.”

“I’ve heard a great many things,” the man said in a drawling New York accent. “Eggsy speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, turning a raised eyebrow to Eggsy who flushed lightly and elbowed him in the side.

“Shut up,” he muttered through a grin.

Nathaniel continued, “This is a discussion probably best reserved for the office, but as we have not had the chance to do so yet, I’d like to tell you that I have high hopes for Kingsman Tailors. Eggsy had been a wise choice to send as an envoy on your behalf.” Because part of Eggsy’s mission was to invite Nathaniel to become one of Kingsman’s donors, and Eggsy had been nothing on that mission but successful. “I look forward to seeing my…” Nathaniel paused to find the right word. “ _Investments_ in your business come to fruition and have all the confidence that it will deliver.” 

“It’s a constant process, Mr. Beaumont, but I assure you that shan’t regret your investment in us,” Harry nodded a polite bow at him. Nathaniel nodded one right back, so Harry stepped aside to draw Roxy into their midst. “I hope Eggsy wouldn’t mind my taking over to introduce you to the very capable Roxanne Morton, one of our finest tailors.” Nathaniel took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Ah, finally! A beautiful face to put with a beautiful name. I swear, it’s either Harry this or Roxy that with Eggsy,” he gave Eggsy a pointedly amused look. “I may have developed high expectations from the heaps of praise he gives you, but I must admit that they have yet to be proven wrong.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Beaumont,” Roxy said.

“‘Nathaniel,’ please,” the billionaire countered with an enigmatic smile that Roxy couldn’t help but reflect. Dropping her hand, he gestured to the dining room and said, with a look of confirmation at Eggsy, “Shall we adjourn to the dining room? I believe Michelle has prepared something wonderful for us.” Michelle’s beaming smile made Harry’s blood simmer in annoyance because bloody buggering hell! How the fuck could he compete with _that_?

“Right,” Eggsy agreed. “Let me take the wines to let them breathe, yeah?”

“Can I help bringing out the dishes?” Roxy offered, tailing Eggsy and Michelle into the kitchen and leaving Harry and Nathaniel alone in the living room.

Nathaniel tilted his head at him still with a small but polite smile. 

If this were one of _those_ movies, Harry could imagine his smile quickly twisting into a smug sneer. He imagined Nathaniel would see through Harry’s polite affection for Eggsy and lord his position at the forefront of the race for Eggsy’s love. He imagined it could be much more serious than that--that Nathaniel was using Eggsy to bring about the downfall of Kingsman.

But really, this wasn’t that kind of movie.

He only said with that same cordial air, “I suppose it’s you that I should thank for introducing me to Eggsy, Arthur. He’s a wonderful man; I’m glad to have had the opportunity to get to know him and honored to be welcomed into his personal life.”

And since it still wasn’t that kind of movie, Harry answered, “I only assign the missions, Mr. Beaumont. You’ll only have Eggsy to thank for everything else.” Nathaniel nodded and led Harry into the dining room with the ease of someone who had already come to think of this house as his own.

Dinner was torture, of course. Harry hadn’t expected anything less. That Michelle had been seated at the head of the table--hence at an angle that did not permit her direct line of sight to Harry--and that Eggsy was sat adjacent to him did little to assuage the utter painfulness of it. 

Nathaniel’s studied politeness made Michelle shine like the blinding sun. She, unlike Harry, didn’t understand the nuances of civil interaction, after all. One did not need to be sincere in order to heap praise; one only had to be charming. But if the way he took delicate bites out of his meal and eagerly leapt at the next course without having finished the first were any indication, Harry knew he wasn’t partial to the dishes. Nevertheless, Michelle’s delight in Nathaniel only served to sharpen the contrast for her distaste for Harry.

Oh, she was polite. Or as polite as Harry could expect from a South Londoner that hated the very idea of his existence. She ignored him for the most part, and when she couldn’t, spoke to him in a flat tone of voice. Never a hurtful word, but that was mostly because Eggsy shot her warning looks from the other end of the table. Clearly, Harry was an unwelcome guest in her eyes.

More than that, however, was being privy to the interactions of Eggsy and Nathaniel, the latter of whom sat directly opposite him. Nathaniel lavished praise on him, the likes of which would have made Harry’s teeth rot did he not silently share the same sentiment, and Eggsy responded by blushing and sending back praise of his own. Nathaniel made extravagant promises that would have any person swoon in delight, much more a boy who had grown up never having anything of his own, and Harry knew he could and would keep such promises if Eggsy hadn’t (halfheartedly) turned them down. Their little touches and inside jokes made Harry want to demand them to cease or to walk right out of that farce of a dinner with his dignity held high, but he did neither. And he knew--he realized this towards the end of the meal--he knew that if Eggsy had asked him what he thought of Nathaniel, he would tell him the truth: that Nathaniel Beaumont was a good man and a good man for Eggsy.

“Thank you for having us, Eggsy, Mrs. Unwin,” he found himself saying in a gracious monotone after the entire song and dance had ended and he and Roxy were bundled up in their coats at the doorstep.

Eggsy smiled weakly. “D’you maybe want to go out an’ get a drink, all four ov us? Nathaniel and I can grab our coats?”

“No, no,” Harry politely rejected. “It was a lovely evening, but I myself would like to retire. Maybe Roxanne would like to join you, however?” They all turned to her to see her shake her head.

“Maybe next time, Eggs. I’m sure Nathaniel would appreciate a rest after his flight,” she pointed out, and to that, Eggsy conceded.

They finished their polite goodbyes, and Harry and Roxy walked arm in arm towards the curb.

Here, they stopped, waiting in silence beneath the lamplight for the Kingsman cab they agreed to share. It shouldn’t take long, their glasses told them. Five minutes tops. So they waited.

Then Roxy suddenly offered in the stillness of the night, “Wanna go grab a drink?”

And Harry answered, “ _God_ , yes.”

…………… 

“I am not _discussing_ this with you,” Harry sang as he signed his rejection for the proposals Merlin had just brought in in petty retaliation for Merlin’s shameless meddling. Merlin took them back when offered, took one glance at them, frowned, and tucked the papers away, and Harry knew it wasn’t the last time he was going to see them.

“He’s taking a whole week off, Harry, to jetset around the world with his new beau,” Merlin pointed out. “If you wait until he comes back, it’s going to be too late.”

“ _Still_ not discussing this with you,” Harry said, taking a different file off of his desk and pretending to read it so that Merlin would _Go. Away._

“You should do the Parent Trap thing,” Roxy suggested from the other side of Harry’s desk, sitting and smiling like Harry’s world wasn’t going to implode in two hours when Eggsy would climb into Nathaniel’s jet and come back a week later, properly captivated with Nathaniel and his lifestyle. “You know. Send him off, and then quickly beat him to his destination and surprise him there. I’m sure a couple of our jets can get you there faster than Nathaniel’s.”

“I am not discussing this with you either,” Harry told her. It was a pretty good idea though, he had to admit. He could only imagine Eggsy’s face, filled with surprise and joy, when he saw Harry waiting for him. How he would drop his bags and fling himself into Harry’s arms, Nathaniel notwithstanding, and kiss him with tears in his eyes. How he would confess that it had always been Harry that he wanted and was only waiting on Harry to figure it out.

 _Fantasize, Hart,_ Harry told himself. _The word you’re looking for is ‘fantasize,’ not ‘imagine.’_

“How is it you’re Arthur again?” Merlin asked snidely. “Last I checked, Arthur didn’t cower away like a cowardly fool from issues that needed to be dealt with.”

Harry levelled him a glare and snapped, “And last _I_ checked, Arthur carefully evaluated his battles and chose the option that benefitted the greater good, his _own personal feelings in the matter being nigh inconsequential_!”

“He needs to know that there’s an option!” Merlin fired back.

“He should already know that there is!” Harry shouted, banging his fist on the desk. Neither Merlin or Roxy reacted. However, realizing he had uncharacteristically lost his temper (in front of Roxy anyway), he quickly quieted. “Eggsy is a mature young man. He should already know that if he wants to pursue a relationship with anyone--be it myself or anyone he wants--he is free to do so. Or to at least to try. That he hasn’t done so with me and has chosen to do so with Mr. Beaumont is quite a clear indication that he has no interest, and thus, I shan’t be pursuing the matter any further, regardless of what you seem to think.”

“Or maybe, like you, he’s seen no indication that you want to try and that, like you, he decided that it would be best to forget all about it,” Merlin returned, equally as quietly. “A three-decade career has made you too good at masking yourself, Harry. Give the boy a break.”

Harry looked away. “I have nothing to offer him that Mr. Beaumont cannot offer twelve times over. He’s the better option in every way.”

“Or _maybe_ you let _Eggsy_ decided which option is better for him,” came a voice from the doorway. It was unmistakable, and Harry’s attention snapped to it as soon as the first word was spoken.

Eggsy stood there, a duffel bag clutched in one hand and looking all for the world like he belonged in the throngs of high society in a pale pink polo shirt, white shorts, brown loafers, gold-rimmed shades hanging from his neckline, and the Patek Phillipe Nathaniel had given him.

Harry wanted to rip everything off of him and clothe him back in outrageous Adidas jackets and truly horrible shoes.

Eggsy walked through the doors and tapped at his glasses, a clear sign that they had been previously turned on for communication. Roxy, in the corner of Harry’s eye, performed the same action, and now Harry understood why she and Merlin had been harassing him about this.

“I…” he tried to say, but there really was nothing _to_ say because Harry was far from daft. Eggsy’s intention was perfectly clear.

Eggsy stopped in front of his desk and answered with a radiant smile, “Yes, you.”

“But Nathaniel--”

“Will travel around the world and, in a week, return t’ make a few million bucks more. ‘E’ll give a couple a’ grand more t’ our cause, ‘e’ll hang out wiv ‘is friends back in New York, sleep wiv a bird or two, and generally live the life everyone dreams ov. ‘E might eventually find someone else and settle down into married life, or ‘e won’t, but ‘e won’t mind. ‘E loves ‘is life as is, wiv or wivout someone t’ share it wiv. ‘E’ll survive spectacularly well wivout me.

“But I don’t think I’ll fare ‘alf as well as ‘e wivout you.”

Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest until Eggsy gave him a rakish grin.

“I been practisin’ that all the way ‘ere. Good, huh?”

And then Harry was scrambling over his desk to grab Eggsy by the front and kiss him to within an inch of his life with Eggsy laughing into his mouth all the while.

And Harry realized, this _was_ that kind of movie after all.


End file.
